


The Air Balloon Debate

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Hot Air Balloon POV, M/M, Parrot AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who will win the champagne in the debate?  As narrated by the balloon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Air Balloon Debate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's Ushobwri "New Frontiers Challenge"

Well, take off went smoothly, which is a relief.  I must admit to having had some doubts, what with Mr Know-It-All telling everyone what they should be doing, but fortunately my pilot totally ignored Mr KIA and we took off without problems.

I should perhaps explain there are four people in my basket, plus my pilot, which makes it a little crowded.  However, this is apparently okay, as some of the occupants will be leaving the basket partway through the journey, which will leave more space.  We also have, for reasons unknown, two parrots, called Sherlock and John.

Apart from Mr KIA, there is Hugely Sympathetic Man (HSM) who is being very understanding and helpfully trying to ensure everyone is happy, because “we are all in this together.”  In my experience, the people who get on best on a balloon flight are those who spend all their time looking at the view and don’t bother with any conversation.  Admittedly they make some fairly boring comments, which I must hear every time, “Ooh, look at those cars, they’re just like toys”, but that’s acceptable in a way.

 There is Angst Man (aka Man Who Is Desperately In Love With His Friend And Just Needs A Plot Twist To Throw Them Together).  And there is Everyone’s Favourite Villain, who I shall call Moriarty for easy reference.  So far the parrot named Sherlock has called Angst Man Ant-Man three times and Moriarty has threatened to wring the parrot’s neck.  HSM has suggested they all sit in a circle and share with each other.  This has been vetoed for the simple reason there isn’t enough space for everyone to sit in a circle.

***

Mr KIA has just said they should check the wind speed using the anemometer.  He is very insistent on this point and tells my pilot he will be registering his concerns as to the pilot’s lack of professional ability once he is back on the ground.  He hasn’t actually asked my pilot if he knows how fast we are travelling.  If he did he would discover my pilot has masses of experience and can judge the speed without having recourse to the instrument.

Mr KIA has repeated “when I get back to terra firma” several times in the last few minutes.  My pilot has now said to him, “sooner rather than later”.  Mr KIA is insisting there should be a proper vote, as per the manual.  My pilot says, “all in agreement?”, and since no-one says “no”, Mr KIA is now descending earthwards at an increased speed.  He lands upside down in a convenient tree and is no doubt now informing the tree what it is doing wrong in suspending him in this way.

***

HSM says we should all take a minute to catch our breath and reflect on what has happened and how we can avoid it happening again.  Sherlock squawks something extremely rude and HSM tries to stroke his head.  This does not go well, and HSM’s finger is now bleeding where Sherlock bit it.  We are being encouraged to breathe in and out slowly and gently.  I am very tempted to do the same, but my pilot has glared at my burner, so I don’t think I’ll try it.

I am delighted to report we have indeed achieved a rare moment of solidarity.  Angst Man and Moriarty have agreed they’ve had enough of HSM and between them are heaving him out of the basket.  He is heading for a large stack of hay and no doubt will soon be trying to persuade the farmer to put down his pitchfork and try relaxing breathing.

***

 Angst Man has now spotted the house where the best beloved lives.  He has been pouring out his troubles to John, but the parrot seems to be asleep.  Surprisingly, Sherlock suggests all Angst Man needs to find is something to draw the best beloved’s attention.  Moriarty seems keen to assist and now Angst Man has left the basket.  Hopefully a broken arm will be sufficient to bring the two together. 

***

Sherlock tells Moriarty he is behaving like a typical villain.  This is apparently boring, because it presents no challenge.  Frankly, I think this is a little unfair, since Moriarty clearly has a role to play.  Moriarty must think the same, because he pushes Sherlock off the edge of the basket.

John wakes up and leans over the side of the basket, squawking, “Fly, you stupid bird.”

We too are descending, but at a rather more controlled rate.  Sherlock presumably listened to John, because he has joined us again for the last few feet.

It appears Moriarty has won the prize, being the last person left in the basket.  Technically, of course, my pilot is also there, but he wasn’t taking part in the competition. 

My pilot is about to hand over the bottle of champagne, but John says, “What about me?  I should have a share in the prize.”

“You’re a parrot,” Moriarty says.  “You don’t drink champagne.”

John tilts his head to one side and fixes Moriarty with his beady black eyes.  “Who says?”

Moriarty is about to challenge this, but looks at John’s beak, remembers the damage Sherlock caused to HSM, and thinks better of it.

“Pilot, do you have any glasses?” he asks.

My pilot produces four glasses.  Moriarty looks surprised, but nonetheless pours champagne into all of them.  He passes one to my pilot, places one where John can reach and raises the third. 

“Cheers!” he says.

My pilot takes the fourth glass and scatters the contents around the basket.  Moriarty raises his eyebrows, but says nothing.  We balloons believe we deserve our share.

Meanwhile Sherlock is sitting on the edge of the basket, apparently sulking.

“It’s your own fault,” John says.  “You shouldn’t have been pushed out of the basket.”

Sherlock ruffles his feathers a bit more and glares firmly into the distance.

 


End file.
